Korra Week Collection
by dreamoverdrive
Summary: A week of writing dedicated to the powerful woman we know as Korra.
1. Home

Growing up in the White Lotus Compound was not an experience Korra would care to repeat.

Later on in life, when people would tell her about their childhoods and the vague recollections they had of old homes and distant memories, Korra would simply smile. She nodded her head, giving the impression of understanding- but really- how could she understand?

Any memories that might have been vague had been stamped with clarity into her mind with the slow passing of years in the compound. She couldn't say _wow I really wish I could remember, _because she could remember. There was nothing interesting to forget in the first place.

The same bending instructors, the same forms taught to her over and over and over again until they were more natural to her than simple existence- that was her childhood. It was the same disapproving gazes when she acknowledged her own success -because they were determined not to- every day of every week of every month. To be honest, it was like her time there was one big blurred memory. There was nothing to cut it apart or to break the monotony other than her mastery of the elements.

So when she was curled up in the flat wooden bed in her new room, she was at a loss to why she felt so out of place. She attributed it to the fact that there were people here that hated her. She had been disliked, but never _hated _before. She'd stood in crowds of sticky bodies that jostled her while they jeered at the very mention of her name. _The Avatar has arrived in Republic City._

She sure had. And she wasn't so sure if it was any better than the place she had just come from.

Alright, that wasn't true. Of course she liked it better here. She was pro-bending and getting to know people her own age that weren't paid to guard her or spar with her. She was going to restaurants and dances. The people at those places loved her. _Sit next to me, Avatar. Tell me about your last match. Can I feel your biceps? How do you like Republic City? Let us show you around._

Yeah, she was having fun. So why did she feel so _lost_?

Korra cycled through many definitions of what home had come to mean. Home had meant fire in her body, the vessel that carried her though the chaos thrust upon her. The hardness of her palms, the taut readiness in her muscles in anticipation of trouble- _that _was the only place she could find certainty and safety. Everyone she had thought she had known, every fallback she had planned carefully, it was all lies. _He _was a lie (_she thought she knew him_), the darkness in the world challenging her that lied so cruelly (_how was she going to do this_), and even her own certainty in her power was revealed to be just one large fabrication that left her floundering the instant it was pulled away.

When it all fell apart and the snow pressed up against cold skin and a colder emptiness that was radiating from the core of her being (_where had they all gone_), all she could think was I want to go _home_.

Time led to expansion of Korra's home. The isolation of her upbringing and the betrayal from having opened up one time too many left her uncertain and wary. She knew there must be more because feeling this alone couldn't be all there was.

Gradually the doors opened again. The people she had come to know as friends became permanent. It was conscious decision to believe that they would be present and the decision led to their inclusion of her small shelter.

The shoulder of the master to lean on, the bright innovative gleam in green eyes that regarded her with a kind of trust she had never experienced before, the goofy grins that followed teasing lines meant to make her happy (they all tried _so _hard to make her happy), and the golden glow she had come to see in so many different lights that had taught her together didn't have to mean romance.

These people grew into her home. The assurance of their presence and the promise of protection became the home she returned to when it all became too much. When Avatar became a burden instead of a title and the reminders- _you are responsible for the whole world, Korra, don't forget it_- were too much to handle.

Through it all she knew this was _home_. She would be safe here.

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><p><strong>This will be updated very quickly because it's all written! It's just a matter of posting. <strong>


	2. Fear

Korra wasn't scared of much: there were the infrequent jolts of panic when she fought or made a mistake- but the _real fear- _the fear she refused to acknowledge within herself (because acknowledging it would only serve to validate it) made pale memories flick behind her eyelids in the darkness of her room in the hours while sleep eluded her.

_Avatar Aang wouldn't have fought them. They would have liked him. Of course they would rather spend time with__** her**__. The first Avatar, unable to bend all the elements- __**what a shame.**_

Inadequacy. That was her greatest fear. That she would never be_ enough_. That her story, carved into sandstone walls out of mere obligation, would be hidden in the corners of the temples where no one would have to look upon her failure.

When she heard that silky voice floating out of the radio -y_ou no longer have to live in fear; the time has come for benders to feel fear- s_he was cemented into place with cold sweat dripping down the hollow of her back. If she hadn't wanted to scream, she might have laughed.

Buddy, I'm nothing but solidified fear.

Tarlok came- _we need someone fearless in the face of danger- _and panic sizzled up so quickly in her throat it was a battle in itself to suppress it. Iamnotafraid. Iamnotafraid.

Then gala was just shot after shot. There was the girl resting a tastefully placed arm on Mako's (if only Korra was a master at making herself look good) and the police chief up in her face reminding her that she had done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Fear didn't make Korra timid and there was a fierce frustration building beneath the thin web of her shame.

The popcorning of the reporters was so well scripted that it was almost as though they had taped the nasally voice that whispered doubt in her head. This had trap stamped all over it in big red letters. _How do you think Avatar Aang would have handled this? Are you __**afraid**__ of Amon?_

_Iamnotafraid. Iamnotafraid._

"**I am not afraid of anyone!"**

Not even herself.


End file.
